I'm Rubber, You're Glue
by mochamaker
Summary: I'm so stuck...


I do not own the characters of ST: Voyager, nor am I making a profit off their ramblings. This story bounced out of my head onto my keyboard, all in good fun.

Rated a T for strong Language

Please Review

I'm Rubber, You're Glue

"Son of a bitch!" Oww, I exclaim as my head bounced off the side of the latrine stall as a sudden shaking causes me to lose my balance on the toilet. Is it not possible to use the facilities without some sort of accident?

Nope, guess not. The deck under my feet is shaking and I hear the red alert klaxon sounding, loudly.

"SHIT, stupid fucking Red alert."

I finish my business, grab my trousers, and grab the handle on the stall door. I prepare to exit, only to be stopped mid-step by a smack in the face.

"OWWWW," I yell as loudly as I am able, considering my head has been bounced around twice in less than half an hour. The stall door will not open. The lock is stuck. I peer down at it. Silly me if it's not jammed but good.

"Son of a bitch" I mutter under my breath, looking to the ceiling for guidance. "Just call me Captain Potty Mouth today."

As I am thinking, I hear "Captain to the bridge" sounded over the ship wide intercom. What am I going to do now? The stalls are all encompassing with no gaps; I am literally boxed in. I want to weep with frustration, and then kick someone in the gonads.

I tap my commbadge, "Tuvok, I am slightly delayed at the moment but I will be there shortly. What's going on?" I lean back against the wall as he explains, "There is a small ship at our starboard and are charging their weapons. They are not responding to hails." I tell him to just keep hailing.

"Is Chakotay there?"

"Yes, Captain, he is."

"Alright, keep an eye on things and I will get there when I get there. Janeway out" I slap my commbadge again preparing to issue a site to site transport to the bridge when the ship shudders again, and again. I regain my balance, and issue a site-to-site transport to the computer, holding my breath and crossing my fingers as I do.

"The transporters are offline, shields are down to 56 Percent," the feminine computer voice informs me.

I stamp my foot, Hard. "Sack of targ CRAP!" There will be no breaks for me today. I tap my chin with my index finger thinking. I begin to pace, well, as much as the limited confinement allows me. Step. Maybe I can remove the hinges on the door? Step. Shaking my head, no, that will not work. Step. Dammit, I want some coffee. Step. Coffee drinking is what got me into this mess, but the hell if I'm going to give it up. Step. Seven will rescue me. Step. This is boring.

I sit down because pacing is not helping to get me out of here; it is just making me tired. I always did think the best when alone and dammit if that's not the case now. Maybe that shtick Q did this. Who can help me out of this mess while leaving my dignity intact; that is the billion platinum question.

"Of course, Seven" I tap my commbadge again, hoping the staff is not too busy with the ship under attack to come rescue me, "Tuvok, I'm afraid I won't be able to make it to the bridge, assist Chakotay and please stand down weapons. We need to appear not hostile. Hail them again, and keep at it. If they fire again, torpedo their hides. Please send seven to deck 6 section 13 with a crowbar and phaser; I will explain it later. Janeway Out."

I decide to sit and wait not knowing how long I will be trapped here. I count to 87 in Ferengi, then stop when I hear the outside door not opening, but door motor is giving a grinding gears noise.

"Oh, this is not good. Damn, my head is starting to throb."

A realization strikes me like a spinning dead star. I am now not only stuck in the stall, but in the whole room. I listen carefully, sure that Seven is outside the door trying to get to me.

"Captain, are you in here?"

"Yes Seven, it appears that I'm trapped." Ha, ha, I'm laughing on the inside, really.

"I will attempt to pry open the door here and enter to get to you. Just a minute or two more I promise, Captain."

I hear a scraping and a soft female like grunt. Seven must be trying really hard to have vocally expressed her strength. I hear more scraping but it does not sound as if the door opened.

I hear a released sigh, and then Seven says, "Captain, I cannot open this door. It seems to have been glued shut. Are we able to beam you out?"

Ha I think. I respond with humorous sarcasm in my voice." Unfortunately, the transporters happen to be offline. Contact Torres about fixing them, NOW. I'll just wait here then."

If Seven contacts Belanna, then soon the whole senior staff will know of my predicament, though I suspect Tuvok already knows something is amiss. Super glue she said? This is really not flipp'n funny. The prankster will really enjoy my punishment when I catch 'em. Sitting here, I begin to wonder if this is foul play or just a bad joke.

This floor is uncomfortable, but I don't have any better options now and my feet are killing me. I unzip my boots and wait for Seven to sort something out. I trust her in a way that I haven't trusted anyone for a long time, which is scary and a bit exhilarating. I befriended Seven when nobody else would, and I haven't been disappointed in our friendship yet.

"The Lieutenant confirmed she is on the way Captain. It will just be a moment. There was a problem in Engineering but she promised to be here to get you out." To get me out? Great, so she definitely knows the situation.

"Thank you Seven, I really appreciate your help." I am all but gushing with relief at the sound of her voice.

"Are you doing alright Captain?"

"Yes, I am fine, just please, get me out, it is awfully warm in here." Having told Seven I am hot, makes me realize that yes, I am very warm. I take off my uniform jacket and my outer sweater. I am now only clad in my under tank and I lean back, trying to relax. I am not usually claustrophobic, but I feel that in these circumstances, I might have an attack. I am reminded of being held captive, and I give a bodily shudder.

I want out. So badly now.

There is no way out. Damn I want some coffee. Hurry up Torres; get me the hell out of here.

"Hey Seven, you still there?" I try not to sound too needy, but I hate this.

"Yes Captain. Are you still doing okay?"

"Yep, Seven. Just perfect. Would you want to meet in the mess hall when I get outta here? We can enjoy a hot beverage and just decompress, hmm."

"Yes Captain, that sounds alright." Thank God, coffee. I look up to the ceiling. Did I really just ask Seven to spend time with me? Oh Katie, don't get nervous. You have spent time with her before, yes, before you had such a deep connection with her, so just relax. Now I have more motivation to get the hell out of here.

I tap my commbadge, "Torres, are you here yet? I would really like your assistance. Ya know, I'm not getting any younger, unless we hit a time distortion wave." I chuckle under my breath and my own bad joke. Solitude always brings out the worst of my flippancy.

"Captain I am in the turbo lift as we speak, just hang on, Tuvok briefed me on the situation, discreetly." OH well then.

"Is the ship not under attack anymore?"

"The ship has retreated for the moment and is no longer within sight."

"Fabulous. Now onto more important matters, like how your Captain ended up stuck in here. Janeway out."

"Computer, are the transporters still offline?"

The feminine computer voice responds, "Transporters are currently at full operational capacity." I let out a whoop of joy. I'm sure Seven and Torres our rolling their eyes at me, but piss on the both of them, well just Torres.

"Fucking great," I hear Torres tell Seven outside the doors. I'm assuming they are discussing the super glue problem. I may be able to get out, but with the doors stuck together, this squat room is offline.

Tapping my commbadge in joy, "Hey you two, transporters are online now so I will see you in just a minute."

I contact the transporter room, and minutes later, I materialize in the hallway outside my last few-hours cell. Seven looks over at me in relief, and Belanna has a scowl on her face. That Klingon brain of hers I'm sure is cranking over who would have super-glued their Captain in the freaking latrine. Oh well, not my problem, right now, anyways.

Walking over to Seven, I grab her arm and guide her to the mess hall and my much much-needed super-sized mug of coffee. Seven smiles down at me and I smile back as we walk. Freedom on this stranded little ship never felt so good.

**A/N I hope you enjoyed this little plot, thanks for reading. Uhmm. Slaps imaginary commbadge, "fanfic writer out."**


End file.
